Have Yourself a Beary Little Murder

by Meg Macy

  I sat cross-legged on a floor pillow near the bookshelf. “How sick was he, really? Like, with the flu or a bad cold? Did he look pale, or nauseated?”

  Dad lowered the newspaper, one eyebrow raised. “No idea. He told me he was going home, so I took his place. The line of kids to see Santa stretched for almost a block.”

  “Do you think it’s possible—oof!” Rosie had jumped on me and licked my face, begging for attention. “I can’t help wondering if he was faking. I mean, Cal Bloom promised to sell him the funeral home a while ago but then balked. Maybe the mayor found a different buyer, and when he told Dave, he lost his temper.”

  Dad looked startled. “You think Dave killed Cal Bloom? That’s not possible.”

  “Why?”

  “Dave Richardson is more loyal than anyone I’ve ever known. Cal Bloom treated him like a son, and taught him the business from the ground up.”

  “But what if Dave lost his temper? I mean, Mr. Bloom wanted Kristen to take over the business, so maybe—”

  “Sasha, listen to me.” He’d folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Dave Richardson wouldn’t harm a fly. And Alison or Kristen aren’t cold-blooded killers, either.”

  “That’s right,” Mom called out from the kitchen. “They’re heartbroken over Cal’s death. Besides, a little family squabble over paying off loans, or inheritance money is common. Look what happened after Grandpa T. R.—”

  “It’s not the same, Judith,” Dad said sharply. “Let the police do their job, Sasha. They’re bound to find the truth of what happened.”

  “But . . .” I paused, wondering how to word this. “Isn’t it frowned upon if a detective gets involved with either a suspect or the victim’s family? Couldn’t they get in trouble?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re talking about this new detective, correct? I’ve heard a rumor that Hunter’s been spending a lot of time with Cal’s daughter. And I saw them together at Ham Heaven on the day of the parade. It’s up to Chief Russell, though. He should make the call about taking Hunter off the case and avoid any future problems.”

  “Hello, everyone,” Aunt Eve called out from the kitchen. “Ross said he’ll be late. They have half a dozen wizard bears to finish tonight.”

  “See, Sasha? I was right about the staff needing your help,” Mom said. “I’m glad you’re here, Eve. I could use some help finishing dinner. The noodles are boiling, and the colander is in the bottom cabinet. Meatballs are almost done. Roasted vegetables, too.”

  I rose to my feet, intending to set the table, but Dad waved a hand. “Wait, let them chat. Your mom is dying to wring some answers out of Eve about the wedding.”

  “Okay, no problem.”

  I heard them chattering away while they worked about what Aunt Eve might wear, either a simple suit or something fancier, whether the wedding should take place before or after the staff party, and if they wanted to invite other friends. My mother wouldn’t rest until everything was settled. She was a natural-born organizer.

  I turned to Dad. “So. Back to Cal Bloom’s death.”

  “As for your previous question, yes. Detective Hunter ought to take himself off the case, but it is optional.”

  “What time did you see them at Ham Heaven?”

  “Before I took over for Dave in Christmas Alley, I think. Don’t hold me to that.” Dad winked. “I can pass along a word of caution to the police chief, if you prefer, about Hunter dating Kristen. That way Tom Russell can handle it.”

  “Sure.” Relieved, I plunged on with more questions. “Have you heard that Cal Bloom had an erotic photo of Cissy Davison?”

  Dad shook his head. “Cal did have a reputation as a womanizer, though, and some found him too friendly. Hugging them, that kind of thing, but don’t tell your mother. Judith would deny it. She claims he acted like an angel from heaven.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. What did she mean about Grandpa T. R.?”

  “Oh, a little spat between brothers. That’s all.”

  “You and Uncle Ross?” I asked, astonished. “You argued over inheritance money?”

  “Let’s just say that family squabbles are common.”

  “Hey, Sasha. I meant to tell you something.” Aunt Eve stood in the doorway, wooden spoon in hand, and an apron over her plaid pants and cashmere sweater. “Remember those tiny gingerbread house cookies?”

  “The one perched on a mug?”

  “Oh, you should have seen them, Judith, they were so cute.” My aunt sighed. “Too bad one broke during the judging, but they may have had help. I ran into the pastor’s wife today. Mrs. Lovett saw Lois Nichols handling those cookies. She asked why, of course, but Lois said she hadn’t touched them. Wouldn’t you call that suspicious?”

  I frowned. “So you’re saying Lois tampered with them? Oh, man. I’ll text Maddie and see what we should do.”

  “I would confront Lois, that’s for sure,” Mom said hotly, “especially since she threatened to sue us if her cookie didn’t make the finals.”

  “I watched the judging with Maddie,” Aunt Eve said. “The gingerbread house ended up tied with Lois’s entry. When the chef noticed a crack, he picked it up and then it broke. So since Lois lied about touching them, I’d say she did it on purpose. Whose entry was it?”

  I’d already sent my sister a text and waited for a reply before answering. When my cell pinged with a text, I read it with a sinking heart. No wonder Lois tampered with them and then lied to cover up her actions.

  “Flora Zimmerman baked the gingerbread houses. Maddie said Flora insisted they were perfect when she registered. I believe her. She’s far too honest.”

  I didn’t add that Flora drove Uncle Ross crazy with her scrupulous honesty, reporting any problems with factory equipment or supplies. She’d also tattled on Lois’s laziness. Apparently Lois found a way to get revenge on Flora by cheating in the bake-off contest.

  “Maddie also said she’d call Mrs. Lovett on the way home.”

  I knew she planned to announce the contest winner any day. Thankfully, we had a reliable witness. The pastor’s wife had no reason to make up a story like that, since Lois Nichols didn’t attend church and probably had never met Marianna Lovett before the Bear-zaar. I had a feeling that disqualifying Lois would bring trouble, though.

  We’d have to risk it.

  Chapter 15

  Once Maddie arrived, we ate and chatted about the upcoming open house, the staff party, and Uncle Ross and Aunt Eve’s wedding. Mom droned on and on about adding more wedding-theme decorations until Aunt Eve stopped her cold.

  “Judith, we don’t want any fuss. Please—”

  “Leave everything to me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Uncle Ross grumbled.

  “Hoo boy.” I turned to Maddie and changed the subject to Lois’s cookie tampering. “Did you talk to Marianna Lovett?”

  “Couldn’t reach her, so I’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “So what are we going to tell the judges?”

  “Lois threatened to sue us,” Mom said. “Toss her entry.”

  Maddie looked troubled. “It’s a serious problem.”

  “That woman always gave me a headache at the factory,” Uncle Ross said. “Complained about the hours, the working conditions, the pay, and the benefits. Did Harry Nichols actually have cancer? Emphysema, yes, from smoking for years.”

  “Lois showed me the doctor’s treatment orders,” Maddie said. “I’m worried that she’ll follow through with a lawsuit. She has major anger issues.”

  Dad disagreed. “I doubt she’d sue given the court costs involved if she loses. You have a reliable witness. That alone should make her tuck tail and run.”

  “Speaking of running, I’m late.” I rose from the table and grabbed my coat, purse, and boots. “Night, all. And thanks for the advice.”

  Maddie jumped to her feet. “Wait for me. I need a break tonight, too.”

  We rushed outside into the cold. Luckily the wind had died down. My sister trudged besi
de me in silence, head down and hands in her coat pockets. I decided to gauge how far the gossip about Kristen and Detective Hunter had gone around the village. If Digger Sykes found out, he’d be sure to tell Mads, and everyone else living within a hundred miles. I broached the subject and explained what I’d learned so far.

  “Yeah, I heard the news from Digger. I’m surprised the local police allowed Hunter to investigate the case.”

  “Flynn thinks it might be a sticky issue. So does Dad.”

  No live band music poured out of the pub when we entered, and I was grateful for that. We both needed tranquility, although this place might not be the best spot to find it with all the noise from guys playing pool in a side room, and others laughing at the bar. Brian Quinn waved behind the line of people and motioned to the back where Wendy and Ben sat in a booth. We hung our coats on a rack and joined them.

  “Hey, Mads. Didn’t expect you to tag along,” Wendy said.

  “Wine should improve my mood.”

  “Sounds like your business is getting off the ground fast.” Ben signaled the waitress so we could order. “That’s a good thing.”

  “I guess.” Maddie turned to Wendy. “Someone witnessed Lois Nichols tampering with a cookie at the Bear-zaar last Saturday. Did you notice anything? You were at Mary Kate’s Fresh Grounds booth, right across from the contest table.”

  “Hmm. Lois did hang around after she turned in her Sugar Plum Teddy Bears.” Wendy set down her beer bottle with a thunk. “I didn’t see her doing anything, but I wouldn’t put it past her. Which cookie did she target? One of our Little Lord Fauntleroy Bears lost an ear, so lucky thing we brought extras.”

  “I wonder if Lois broke if off, on purpose,” Maddie said.

  I shrugged. “All we can prove is that she handled Flora Zimmerman’s gingerbread house cookies, and likely caused it to break. That ruined any chance of getting into the final round.”

  “Lois probably figured that cookie would beat hers,” Wendy said. “The little house with the tiny teddy bear in the window, right? That was a nice touch, and unique. Have you asked Isabel French whether she saw anything?”

  “Not yet, but we will soon.” I changed the subject. “Did either of you hear rumors or know about Cal Bloom’s DUI record?”

  Wendy shook her head. “Nope.”

  “That’s because you weren’t raised here, like I was,” Ben said to her. “It’s not common knowledge around town, but I saw him during my presentation at the local AA meeting. They asked me to speak after I earned my pharmacy degree.”

  “A presentation about alcohol abuse?” I asked.

  “Any kind of substance abuse. People start with booze to dull the pain in their lives, or to reach a level of euphoria. The body craves more to achieve the same intensity. Or they go with pot first, and that can lead to harder drugs like cocaine or heroin,” Ben added. “Not that Cal Bloom ever got to that point. Gil Thompson attended, too.”

  Maddie shifted beside me, clearly uncomfortable. “Kip O’Neill was an alcoholic.”

  I stared at her in amazement, wishing she’d shared that insight with me before now, and recalling the time I’d joined the two of them for dinner at the hotel with Jay. Kip wanted to celebrate, ordered the most expensive champagne, and was angry when Maddie objected. I’d been mortified by my sister’s embarrassment, and felt uneasy witnessing their spat. Even Jay never realized the extent of Kip’s problems.

  Wendy nodded in sympathy. “It’s easy to fall into that kind of trap. The mayor carried a flask at the parade, but he joked it was only tea. I took a sip when he passed it around. From the way it burned my throat, it had to be brandy.”

  “A lot of people knew about that flask,” Maddie said. “Flynn did, and Digger. So is it true his wife wanted to divorce him?”

  “I doubt she’d have gone through with it,” Ben said. “Although Mrs. Bloom increased her husband’s life insurance policy. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “You’re serious? Mom wants me to prove her innocence, you know. Who told you that?” I was disappointed when he shook his head.

  “Oh, come on, Ben,” Maddie coaxed. “How did you find that out?”

  “Sorry. I was told in confidence.”

  “But for how much?”

  “Over a million bucks. Hearsay, though.”

  “Okay, okay. But that means Alison Bloom expected to collect a big windfall after her husband’s death,” I said, still reeling. “That kind of money would pay for her mom to stay at the Silver Birches for years, if she lived that long.”

  “And whoever killed the mayor had to have help,” Maddie said. “He was no lightweight, especially dressed in the Santa Bear suit with the big head.”

  Her cell phone rang, playing the “Peanuts” theme music, so she slid out of the booth and took the call near the restroom door. I watched her for a minute and turned back to Ben and Wendy, who finished her burger and licked her greasy fingers.

  “Just remember, innocent until proven guilty,” Ben said with a frown.

  “Of course,” I said. “So what do you know about Dave and Leah Richardson? Cal Bloom planned to sell them his business, but apparently that didn’t happen.”

  “The mayor figured he’d sell since things were going so badly before the election. His popularity took a hit when Gina Lawson filed a lawsuit over that botched campaign. Things were really messed up, but then Bloom won. Shocked him right out of a funk, he told me that. I guess Cal decided not to sell after all.”

  “I heard Dave Richardson was furious,” Wendy said.

  “I overheard them arguing,” Ben said with a shrug, “but Dave’s a rock. I’ve never seen him lose his temper. He always puts the family first. The Richardsons are careful about their name and reputation in Silver Hollow.”

  I was tempted to bring up the bruise I’d seen on Leah’s neck, but changed the subject. “So Wendy. You had a question for me? That’s what Ben said at the drugstore.”

  “I’m dying to know about the bake-off contest results,” she admitted. “Even if the Little Lord Fauntleroy Bear loses, we want a heads-up. Okay, I do. Mary Kate’s too wrapped up in being pregnant. She even said I could do all the baking. That surprised me.”

  “We’ll announce it tomorrow.” Maddie returned to the booth and slid back onto the wooden seat. “But first we’ll inform Lois Nichols that she’s been disqualified. I’m not sure how that will go over, but whatever.”

  “Badly. She’s bound to rant and rave that you made it all up.”

  “Dad always says, ‘Never back down from a bully,’ but good thing we have a witness,” I said. “Wish us luck.”

  I tossed a few bills on the table for our drinks, grabbed my coat, and followed my sister outside to Main Street. She kicked a clump of dirty snow, silent again while we crossed the street and wandered down deserted Theodore Lane. The Davisons’ house had lights on in the front, along with the Tyler’s cottage. One security light glowed in the doorway of the graphics studio. Maddie rattled the locked doorknob with satisfaction.

  “Good. I was worried someone might break in.”

  “Like Lois?”

  “It’s more likely she’d do something after I call her. Marianna Lovett called, and verified that she saw the whole thing. Lois handled more than one gingerbread house, and refused to admit it. She even accused Marianna of lying. Imagine that.”

  “Oh, brother. Don’t bother to tell Lois anything,” I said in disgust, “and let the judge choose a winner from the other four entries. I don’t care if that’s fair or not.”

  “Wow, Sash. That’s not like you.”

  “Blame it on all this month’s stress. We’re swamped, and there’s two funerals to attend this week. Maybe Lois won’t even protest.”

  Before we reached the Silver Bear Shop’s parking lot, an SUV drove in our direction. The headlights flashed in my eyes, temporarily blinding me, before it stopped. I recognized Detective Mason’s bulky figure when he climbed out, looking official in a shabby un
buttoned trench coat and rumpled suit. He reminded me of TV’s Columbo; in fact, minus the fat cigar. Mason looked so different in a suit than his usual casual attire.

  “Court appearance today, Detective?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Seen Detective Hunter or Officer Sykes?”

  “Nope.”

  “Thought one of them might have updated you on the autopsy report.” Mason hooked a thumb in the direction of the village. “In a nutshell, the mayor did suffer a minor heart attack. But a skull contusion finished him off.”

  Whoa. That was a shocker. “Someone hit him over the head?”

  “It’s not official yet.” Mason pulled leather gloves from his pocket. “But corpses don’t bleed, so that means he was alive, given the blood matted in his hair. The killer wanted to make sure he was good and dead.”

  “So it was murder after all,” I said slowly.

  “The ME’s pathologist ruled it as pending. It may take a while to review reports and get all the lab results back. And gather more information, of course. As always.”

  “Did he give any opinion on whether the body was moved?”

  “Nope. But you can’t really tell for the first six hours or so, before lividity sets in.” He shrugged. “Still a homicide, so we’ll stay on the job. We need multiple sources of information to make anything stick in court.”

  “So ‘we’ includes Detective Hunter? He doesn’t seem to be making much progress, and spends most of his time around here with his girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend? Here in Silver Hollow?”

  “Yeah,” Maddie said, her tone sour. “Kristen Bloom.”

  “Wait a minute.” Mason poked his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose. “The dead mayor’s daughter? You sure they’re in a relationship?”

  “Someone saw Hunter giving her a diamond necklace. And they were together the day of the parade, having a meal at Ham Heaven.” I shrugged. “I didn’t see them myself, so you’d have to verify that.”

  “Oh, I plan to,” he said, looking pained. “You can bet on it.”

  “By the way, I did hear something interesting. Alison Bloom raised the life insurance policy benefits on her husband. Over a million dollars.”